Mais tu croyais quoi, donc ? Mon ami… Que ces fragments du Ciel se condensent, entièrement comme ça, gratos ? Déchus du Grand Ciel, pour l’amour de l’Humanité ?! Bien pensante ou endolorie. Éprise d’elle-même comme d’hab’! Sans peine ! Sans DOULEUR ! Rien que pour sa belle gueule ? Connard, vas. Donc.
Iseult Gonne, what a beauty, drove Yeats over the deep end. But here it withers on the vine soon enough and they all become shriveled old hags. As Stan notes only the passion can break through. That's why eastern mysticism is tautological silliness, you might as well neuter yourself like Origen the first good Christian.
If you did it, or when it happens, in due time, with the passion that brakes through the threshold, we can talk about it.
Erratum: "Selon ses grades et QUALITÉS."
Iseult Gonne, what a beauty, drove Yeats over the deep end. But here it withers on the vine soon enough and they all become shriveled old hags. As Stan notes only the passion can break through. That's why eastern mysticism is tautological silliness, you might as well neuter yourself like Origen the first good Christian.